Letters To Lana
by WilaraLuv666
Summary: Fluff, slash, and a twist ending. If that doesn't catch your interest, nothing will.


Disclaimer: I don't own Smallville, or the great song "Demon Rock." If you sue me, all you're getting is a pretty picture of some children playing in a field.  
  
  
  
Another day of slaving away at the Torch.  
  
I'm accustomed to it.  
  
It's routine, and actually quite fun; just me and my iMac, my coffee-or a diet Pepsi on a good day-and Letters to Cleo blaring out while I work.  
  
Yeah, I love 'em.  
  
Chloe Sullivan, listening to angry punk-girl rock. Who would've thought?  
  
There are a lot of things people don't know about me. Not my dad. Not Pete. Not Clark. There are also things about Lana Lang that even Clark doesn't notice-big shock there, right? He makes it his pathetic little mission to know. But he doesn't really know anyway.  
  
It makes no sense, the cynical non-conformist empathizing with the distraught homecoming queen, but lots of great things make no sense.  
  
Take my feelings for Clark, for example.  
  
Well, actually, no. When you really think about it, that does make a whole hell of a lot of sense. What teenage girl can you say you know hasn't fallen for her best friend?  
  
But maybe it doesn't make much sense, because be damned if I'm ever anything like other teenage girls.  
  
All this line of thinking does is lead me back to my twisted sense of sympathy for Lana, so let's move on, shall we?  
  
The greatest song is blaring out at me right now, my favorite by far.  
  
It's actually pretty pathetic, this obsession of mine; almost every song now makes me think of Clark.  
  
I can only hope I don't ever stoop to his level, although I suppose I already have, maybe worse; innocent pictures of Clark tend to lose said innocence in time when in my possession.  
  
This whole situation is driving me crazy. We keep going in circles, all of us, everyone, and it's tiring, make that exhausting, and someone has to break the vicious cycle, and Clark sure as hell isn't going to do it, and Lana's oblivious to it, so that leaves me.  
  
That's why I'm wasting my time writing to goddamn Lana Lang when I should be doing layout to get the paper out in time.  
  
  
  
What say you demon, what say you demon rock of what  
  
I'm the rock of Gibraltar, what say you demon so say what.  
  
  
  
Miss Perfect,  
  
I almost consider you my friend, but fact is, if things go on the way they are now, we're bound to hate each other. So, Lana (yes, contrary to popular belief, I know your name, the title is a formality, to display my awe and reverence at your prestigious title), the awkward situation we find ourselves in has to end.  
  
  
  
If you think of it then you should know if I'm getting kind of low  
  
If you think of it then you should know if I'm getting kind of low  
  
  
  
We're both in love with the same man (you may say love is too strong a word, and maybe, for you, it is; but I've loved him for years, keep that in mind), and I can't deny it anymore.  
  
I've spent too much time denying it. I've spent so much time trying to convince everyone else that I don't have feelings for Clark running deeper than friendship that I forgot to try and convince myself. And I found myself stuck with a painfully obvious crush on my best friend, that I couldn't be sure if I really had, except that everytime he smiles, my heart stops.  
  
  
  
You make the sunshine, then you take my air to breathe  
  
And I let you back again, tell me what does that make me?  
  
  
  
And (I hate to say it, but it's true) it's all on me. I let it happen. I mean, naturally I can't just turn my feelings off, or ignore them so easily, but I didn't even think about what falling for my best friend would entail, which, along with emotional baggage, having my heart broken on a daily basis, and the most horrifying track record in relationships Smallville has ever seen, there's the constant 'Lana, Lana, Lana. Lana this, Lana that. Lana smiled at me, the world is perfect. Lana didn't talk to me today, woe is me. Hey, did you know Lana is...(I tend to tune him out from there), Sorry, busy, I'm helping Lana, no time for my best friends anymore. Lana's down the hall, time for me to blow you off. Everyone worship Lana, hurry.'  
  
No offense, but I'm damn tired of hearing about you.  
  
It's people like you that make the world so bad for people like me. Honestly, most of you are just arrogant and conceited. Granted, there are exceptions, and you're one of them, and also, there's really no one else like me in Smallville, but they're out there. You make the whole world sunny and bright and perfect, and all the boys worth loving are loving you. But as far as I'm concerned, there's a certain boy who stands out above the rest, and he's wrapped around your finger. And I know you like him too, don't bother denying it.  
  
  
  
If you think of it then you should know if I'm getting kind of low  
  
If you think of it then you should know if I'm getting kind of low  
  
  
  
But this is how it is. I love Clark, Clark has a pathetic obsession with you that he seems to mistake for love, and you at least like Clark, despite your boring, perfect, handsome jock waiting in the wings.  
  
I can't do it anymore. Something must be done. It's killing Clark, and though I don't know about you, it's killing me too. I need to know where I stand. Nothing is certain anymore.  
  
Live up to your reputation of being one of the few non-bitch popular girls, got it?  
  
-C.S.  
  
  
  
If it was me you wanted, then why don't you just say so?  
  
  
  
Yeah, skip that.  
  
~~~  
  
An e-mail, huh?  
  
How 21st century of her.  
  
How the hell did she get my e-mail address anyway?  
  
  
  
Chloe,  
  
I'm confused. That letter you dropped in my locker...what exactly are you talking about?  
  
I've known a while now you have deeper feelings for Clark, it's rather obvious, as you said, but...what's all this talk of obsession?  
  
Lana  
  
  
  
Oh my God. How positively sweet and innocent and naive and modest she is.  
  
The girl's as clueless as Clark is, possibly more.  
  
This is starting to get amusing.  
  
~~~~  
  
Nothing is as it seems, Lana. Don't ever forget that. And cover your bedroom window if you value your personal privacy.  
  
~~~  
  
"What the hell is this?" Lana says, storming into the Torch office, holding two pieces of paper in her hand. I have a good idea what they are.  
  
"Did you just curse? The world must be coming to an end. What are you talking about?"  
  
"I'm talking about you. Leaving cryptic notes for me, making wild claims of some obsession of Clark's. And 'cover your bedroom window if you value your personal privacy'?"  
  
"Did you?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Clark is still getting his daily fix, then." I smile to myself as I turn back to my computer.  
  
"What are you talking about, Chloe?" She pulls up a chair next to me.  
  
I turn to face her again. "Look, I already layed it out for you, and you still don't understand. So it won't make a difference now."  
  
"Chloe..."  
  
"Alright. Here's how it is. I'm in love with Clark. Madly in love. Can't sleep thinking of you in love."  
  
She nods. "Got that."  
  
"Right. And Clark is utterly obsessed with you, and he seems to think he's in love, when he doesn't really know you."  
  
"You're kidding, right?"  
  
"No." I shake my head. "See, this is the thing, Lana. I want Clark, Clark wants you. But it's down to you. This can't go on, and I intend to do something about it. But before I can do that, I have to know exactly what it is you want."  
  
"And you thought you could find out by dropping these little notes around to confuse me?"  
  
"No, that part was just for fun."  
  
She smiles a little at this. "You wanna know what I want?"  
  
"Yeah, that was the idea."  
  
"What I really want?" Is it just me, or is she moving closer?  
  
"Uh-huh." For some reason, I can't really manage a 'yes.'  
  
"There's only one thing I really want, Chloe. I just haven't been able to admit it." And she moves still closer, and leans forward, her face inches from mine.  
  
"And, uh, what would that be?"  
  
"What do you think?" And she finally closes the distance, and her lips touch mine, softly, and suddenly, everything is positively perfect.  
  
I sit up, trying to clear my head.  
  
I actually just dreamed that Lana--and I--oh my God. Oh my fucking God. 


End file.
